


Fulfillment of desires

by SindyRa



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Batdad, Batfamily, Batfamily Feels, Bruce Wayne is a Good Dad, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Humor, M/M, Robins is kids
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2020-03-03
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:07:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 9,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21741949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SindyRa/pseuds/SindyRa
Summary: Like father, like son. Sons. Мore exactly four sons, Bruce, Clark, and, of course, Alfred. Or the story about Bruce Wayne — genius, millionaire, playboy (and Batman) — trying to get along with Clark and four children.
Relationships: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 12
Kudos: 260





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Исполнение желаний](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/541444) by belalex. 



> I'll try to post two chapters a week — Tuesday and Friday — but it doesn't depend on me. Please be patient. Love you!

Bruce Wayne had spent a lot of time at work for some time. At his civil work. A separate office of the head of the company and the ability to close the doors - this was definitely a huge plus. Not that closed doors could stop them, but fortunately none of his new-found heirs were eager to see "papa" at work – at his civil work.

Unfortunately, forever holed up in office not allowed debt and conscience: Batman could not drag the entire its arsenal in the corporate building, and Alfred was already not in those years, to leave his on at the mercy of violent teenagers. Lately Bruce has been accustomed to be glad of little – the house was not Smoking or in ruins, but not too hopeful – the hall greeted him with a suspicious silence. Without venturing to find out for himself, Bruce turned into the kitchen. The kitchen had the status of an inviolable sacred place – eternally hungry children realized the importance of the smooth functioning of the food source.

Alfred was drinking tea in the kitchen, and Bruce allowed himself to relax a little.

"Where is everyone?"

"Do you want a full report for the day, sir, or can I limit it to the last hour?"

"I suppose if someone had suffered life-threatening injuries, you'd have told me by now, so let's get to the bottom of it."

"Miss Barbara has moved to the West wing, and I strongly advise you to use the guest bathroom instead of trying to evict her from yours."

"We should call Jim and…"

"Commissioner Gordon has called himself, sir, and has asked very much to keep miss Barbara with us at least until the weekend, because - I quote- he deserves a rest, and we must not care."

"Until Friday night, period. And how did the others perceive her presence?"

"Master Damian gave miss Barbara his favorite brass knuckles."

"Why so generous?"

"It's a cunning calculation and a bribe, sir: he wants miss Barbara to remove your lock from his computer."

"And the others?"

"Master Jason and master Tim didn't bother miss Barbara. They found a supply of red paint this morning that I bought to update the obstacle course markings. I tried to convince the boys that this shade suits even them, but I don't think they believed me, so I guess we won't see them for the next few days, so I served dinner under the door…"

"At least there's some use in petty hooliganism."

"... and I suppose the East wing will have to be overhauled when they come out of voluntary confinement." 

"In any case we wanted to restore the ceiling of the hall after Dick's exercises with a pole and a chandelier."

"Master Dick has been in the cave all day."

"Trained?"

"Taking the engine off your plane, sir. He believes that his suit can be supplemented, and the plane as a way to fly is already obsolete."

"And?"

"And now he's testing himself, his new suit, and the roof of this house."

"Where does Clark look?!"

"I suppose Mr. Clark is closing his eyes, sir, and trying not to look at anything at all. A little more, he would order a full-length lead safe to be locked from the inside. Today he was already interested in the contacts of the metalworker to whom I addressed.""

"Did you order a safe for yourself?"

"No, sir, I ordered a sign for you. Bruce Wayne boarding school for troubled Teens. I think it would look great on the gable above the front door."

"Let me remind you that of the two of us, you've always wanted children!"

"I sincerely appreciate your eagerness to please me, but next time, sir, try to grant my wishes on a smaller scale."


	2. II

The mansion was blissfully quiet. Bruce, for once, was sitting on the sofa in the library, looking forward to a peaceful evening with a book from the family collection. For some time now, he revised his notions of vacation: vacation is not when you go somewhere, but when the children leave. He missed Clark, of course, but he thought his absence was a small price to pay for the chance to be master of his own home again. Why he'd agreed to have children in the first place, Bruce preferred not to ask himself. In the end, Alfred and Clark were happy – and it was worth it, and Bruce could tolerate – he's Batman. And Dick, come to think of it, might have done some good – in thirty years or so, there was a spark of promise in him now and then. What might have come of Jason, Tim, and Damian, Bruce wisely tried not to imagine. Like what they're doing right now. With a sigh of pleasure, Bruce turned the page, plunging headlong into the fictional world.

Alfred's arrival had not taken him by surprise, however – unlike the news he had brought.

"Sir, mr. Clark and the boys are coming home."

The book clattered to the floor. The first edition of “Treasure Island” certainly deserved better treatment.

"What the... what happened?"

"They're sick, sir."

"And Clark too?"

"Of course not, sir, only the boys."

"And what could handle them?" Bruce was surprised to realize that he was interested.

"Large quantities of crops, fruit and berries, and a certain amount of soil," Alfred added, not noticing a glimmer of understanding, "Massive indigestion, sir. From overeating unwashed fruits, vegetables and berries."

"Where did they get - don't tell me they ruined mrs. Kent's farm!"

"Why, you boys would never do anything like that. They love and respect Mrs. Martha too much. As I understand it, they made a sortie on the enemy, sorry, the neighbor's territory. Mr. Clark begs you not to worry: he managed to settle everything before the locals assembled a farmer's militia."

"What did I say about the idiocy of Clark's idea that children need fresh air?"

"But, sir, boys really need to push the boundaries. Try the world on a tooth."

"No more travel outside the city until adulthood minimum. I never trusted nature and all that stupid outback."

"Nevertheless, Mr. Clark grew up there quite successfully."

"Because he's Superman! He can eat tons of unwashed apples. And this... turnip with the earth."

"I doubt it's good, sir."

"You have to put up with trying the world. Well, to hell with Clark's hungry childhood, why was he dragging them back now? This isn't an infirmary."

"Sick children want to go home-it's natural. Besides, master Dick is all right for the present, but Mr. Clark is afraid it won't be for long."

"Tell Clark that death is the best way to prevent diarrhea." Without brains, they would not last long, so to spare them from a more terrible outcome is even to some extent merciful. And you can turn the stable into a plague hut. 

"Why don't you tell him yourself?"

"Because the urgent business of the company requires my immediate presence in Shanghai."

"Is that so, sir? Well, be careful: as I recall, local food can have a strange effect on a delicate stomach."

"I'm not thirteen anymore!" Bruce hoped he wasn't blushing.

"Yes? Then let me say, sir, that you are exceptionally well preserved."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave comments if you like it, your every word is very important to me


	3. III

The sounds coming from inside were strange at best. Bruce could tell he'd never heard anything like it in his life. Except in his early childhood, when hi sometimes watched BBC films about wildlife. Marveling at the things he could find in his memory if he tried hard, Bruce continued his audio analysis of the situation in the mansion. The results were disappointing. The source of the next group of sounds was clearly Damian, and he was, for lack of a better word, babbling. At that moment Bruce's imagination took over and he pushed the door open.

There was an unmistakable flapping of rather impressive wings – and something white flew straight at Bruce's head. Bruce made a tactical retreat, swift but dignified. White flew past, followed by Dick, Tim, Jason and Damian. Bruce noted with some pride that the boys maintained the attacking order they had practiced under him last week. The next moment Clark flew out of the house – literally. On the fly he kiss Bruce on the cheek and whispers had to "later." Bruce shrugged and crossed the threshold. Alfred met him in the hall, unperturbed.

"What was that?"

"Good evening to you too, master Bruce. Mrs. Martha has come to the conclusion that we shall need a domestic goose for Christmas. Mr. Clark never argues with his mother, so congratulations, master Bruce, now you have a pet goose."

"What am I supposed to do with it? Stabbed to death with a batarang on Christmas eve?"

"You can have the kitchen cleaver."

"How generous of you. And maybe you…"

"I'm a Butler, though few people remember it, not a slaughterer." The sarcasm in Alfred's voice could have cut down a couple of centuries-old pines. Bruce made another tactical retreat:

"Clark, then. After all, it's his ancestral... hereditary goose."

"If I may, master Bruce, with the development I foresee, no one will have to cut the goose."

"Then how do we get rid of him?"

"Oh, naturally: the bird will die peacefully of old age in the midst of a grieving family."

Bruce chose not to find out whose family he was referring to. He certainly wasn't ready to answer that question.

That night, Bruce met goose on his way back from duty. The goose looked at Batman, Batman looked at the goose. The goose backed away, and Batman grinned.

For the next month or so Bruce did not see the goose – the future main course was cleverer than might have been expected, but he heard about it constantly and found feathers and droppings all over the house with equal regularity. Judging by the amount of both, there would be no need to pluck a goose before Christmas dinner, but there would be nothing to eat. Bruce had no idea what the goose was eating, but the food wasn't good for him, or the opposite was true.

On goose's second week in the house, Tim and Jason fought over who he would sleep with. Dick won, and Bruce changed his mind about what Dick would eventually do: a bird with cold webbed feet in bed, brrr. As a disciplinary measure, Bruce told Alfred to read aloud at Breakfast recipes for goose. Clark ended up running off to work without even drinking coffee. Who would have thought that a villager and Superman would have such weak nerves.

Finding feathers and droppings in his own bathroom, Bruce solemnly promised that if anyone, ever, ever again, Alfred would go from words to action. Alfred tactfully remained silent, so as not to undermine his father's authority. Damian started to say that it was too cold to bathe the goose with a hose in the backyard, but Tim shut him up. 

Bruce never knew how the goose bathing had been resolved, but Damian was right about one thing: it was getting colder. Slowly, inexorably, Christmas approached – the time for making difficult decisions.

"Master Bruce, have you decided what to bring to the table during the holiday dinner?"

"Hamburgers."

"And the goose?"

Bruce waved a hand:

"And for goose too a hamburgers."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave comments if you like it, your every word is very important to me


	4. IV

With the arrival of the children, Bruce revised his views on surprises. If someone had suddenly appeared to him, but at least the Joker, put a gun to his temple and in the best fairy-tale traditions demanded to give what Bruce does not know at home, Bruce would honestly answer that he does not know anything at home, and would generously allow the villain to understand on his own. Of course, in fairy tales pleasant surprises were supposed to pass for saving lives, but in Gotham, even fairy tales did not work according to the rules. Alfred was the only man who could be relied upon in any situation, though Bruce sometimes presumed that he was doing a good job himself.

"Good evening, master Bruce."

Bruce tossed his coat back on the hanger before Alfred could take it in his stride, and then he said, "I'll give you a report on the house, and then I'll decide how kind this evening is to me." 

Alfred shook his head reproachfully:

"As you wish, sir. Mr. Clark, at some football game in Metropolis, told me to tell you he'd be late and angry."

"Perry is being cruel, making Clark suffer so much in the field of journalism. I already bought the daily planet, didn't I?"

"It makes no difference, sir, because Mr. Clarke has repeatedly forbidden you to interfere with his regular work."

"Clark and his principles" – snorted Bruce.

"I dare say that you, in your turn, regularly denied him an interview, arguing that living together is not a reason for exclusivity."

"It's quite another matter!"

"As you say, sir."

Bruce felt the need to justify himself:

"I've heard enough rumors about Batman and Superman being seen together to make me feel like this. Who's next on the list?"

"Master Jason has gone on a self-imposed patrol and told me to tell you that if you are unhappy, he wants you to give him two or three off-duty shifts, and if you are happy, five is better."

"Such a zeal but for homework."

"Oh, I checked its readiness before I allowed him to put on his mask and suit and leave my custody."

"Thank You, Alfred. Then let him take four shifts: don't spoil him too much and give the others reason to think I have favorites."

"Very pedagogical of you, sir. Master Tim took master Damian on a camping trip. They got no further than the hedge near the stables; I gave them sandwiches and soda to last them an hour and a half."

"Very reasonable. You missed Dick."

"Master Dick is no longer technically in the balance, sir, he has left home."

"Why?!" Bruce was genuinely impressed by his eldest son's behavior; he thought Dick was doing very well on the estate, especially since Bruce had always held a very liberal – for an extremely authoritarian head of the family – view of parenting. Had he underestimated how much Dick was bothered by his younger brothers?

"Master Dick told me to tell you that he is of a transitional age, it is his time to grow up.

"But no time to leave home! Where had he gone to night?"

"You want me to activate the beacon?" Alfred looked at him expectantly, and Bruce sighed:

"If I call him, would that fit in with the concept of the troubled, annoying father of a rebellious teenager?"

"Quite, master Bruce. What's more, I'm sure master Dick will be offended if you don't."

"Can I at least have dinner first?"

"I'm afraid not, sir. As a parent first and foremost."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave comments if you like it, your every word is very important to me


	5. V

Everyone needs a little magic at Christmas – Bruce readily agreed, even though the time when he himself believed in Santa Claus was over too quickly. Perhaps that was why, now that he had children of his own, he personally saw to it that everything was as it should be: spruce under the ceiling of the front living room, hung with stockings fireplace, mulled wine – but the latter, of course, only for adults. Fortunately, the children were still more interested in gifts than alcohol, which, however, did not prevent them from trying to get to the coveted bowl of purely sporting interest.

The thrill of the hunt rules in the case of gifts: first, the boys were waiting for Santa, then set a cunning trap for father, which made him so happy. But the children grew steadily, the traditions faded, and Bruce did not admit even to himself that he was a little sad. He was even more careful not to admit it to Alfred, naturally expecting a sarcastic offer to have a couple of cute babies and not wanting to explain why he prefers to do with the existing ones.

Now Dick pretended that he had grown up to be patient, and that he was not going to spend half the night behind the sofa like a child. Jason quite cynically said that Superman can not be caught, except that a Christmas tree is decorate with kryptonite, and with Batman even kryptonite will not help. And Tim suddenly backed him up, so vehemently that Bruce thought it wise to make sure none of them had smuggled any illegal substances into the house. In general, every hope, associated with the celebration, Bruce had placed on Damian's advance and went to the office, so as not to disturb the younger son to arrange high-quality ambush.. No, he didn't believe in Santa Claus for a long time, but he did believe in himself and his ability to catch any adult at the scene of a Christmas crime. A year ago he had managed to bring down a fir tree and cause a great night's commotion. It did not help: when the tree was extinguished and removed from the fireplace, almost intact gifts decorously lay in their places. Bruce knew Damian would never repeat himself, but he'd taken extra precautions by pinning the spruce to the ceiling beams. 

Alfred entered as quietly as ever, but his approach at this time of year betrayed the persistent spirit of the spices. However, if Alfred seriously wanted to sneak up on someone, he could cope with it.

"Your mulled wine, sir."

"Thank you, Alfred," Bruce sipped, "You've outdone yourself. More cinnamon?"

"Cardamom, sir, and nutmeg, but thank you for noticing the nuances. The house is quiet."

"And the spruce?"

"It's still standing, sir."

"What about Damian? Watching the fireplace?"

"I'm afraid not, sir," Alfred shook his head, and added, before Bruce could be alarmed, "He's on guard for Mr. Clark. He considers this strategy more promising."

"Well, good luck to him. What about Clark?"

"Mr. Clark said to tell you that he will take master Damian to bed as soon as he is asleep, it is his turn this year."

"I'm glad he hasn't forgotten. I think I'll go to bed then."

"Naturally. Good night, master Bruce."

"Thank You, Alfred. And you. Spread out the presents?"

"Of course, sir. As usual."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas!   
> I wish you good luck, health, inspiration and all the best.  
> Love you, thanks for reading this :*


	6. VI

Bruce was pacing the guest bedroom, showing his displeasure at the situation. However, it did not make the slightest impression on Alfred.

"Seeing the groom before the wedding is bad luck," he reminded calmly as he fluffed the pillows on the bed.

"Alfred, he's in the next room. And if you – theoretically – can still hold me back, then if he wants to see me, he will not be hindered by you, or even this wall."

"Just because traditions were created without regard to the existence of aliens is no reason not to observe them, sir. You're the head of the Wayne family, and I won't be Alfred Pennyworth if you don't marry properly."

Bruce stopped pacing, paused for a moment, sighed heavily, and said cautiously:

"How did you reason Clark?"

"I told Mr. Clark that if he behaved improperly you would spend the night in a leaded box, and then I could not vouch for your mood at the ceremony tomorrow, and that you would appear at it in the right costume."

"Has anyone ever told you you're a damn manipulator?"

"Do you think, master Bruce, from whom and how did you learn the high art of managing people and always getting your own way? I didn't want to be like that, but someone had to be a good example to you."

Bruce allowed himself a snort, but very quietly.

"Your bachelor bed is ready, sir. And by the way, your prenuptial agreement is also ready."

"Did he sign it?"

"Mr. Clark asked me to tell you that your persistent attempts to PALM him a yacht and a villa in Switzerland OFF are really ridiculous. But if you insist on giving him half your fortune, the listed real estate, the breeding stallion, and the controlling interest in the family Corporation when you divorce him, he'll never divorce you, just to – quote – thwart the stubborn bastard's plans, which he clearly thinks are clever."

"Well, we can assume that everything went well."

"And Mr. Clark added that he was happy to have your entire fortune as a makeweight to you. And you and the boys, in turn, can count firmly on his salary."

"Perfectly."

"Undoubtedly. But let me tell you, sir, that it was most inappropriate to send me to discuss these matters with a full staff of lawyers."

"I know that no one can protect my – and the boys – interests better than you."

"And Mr. Clark's interests," Alfred said sternly.

"And Mr. Clark's interests," Bruce said, smiling and putting his hand to the wall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave comments if you like it, your every word is very important to me


	7. VII

Alfred had just put his foot on the first step of the porch when the front door swung open, showing that he was very expected.

"Good afternoon, master Bruce. I see you've managed very well without me."

"I wonder what made you think that?", Bruce tried very hard not to sound like a grumpy wife, but it didn't work.

Alfred decided to magnanimously ignore the tone or lack of greeting:

"The mansion is intact, all the glass in the windows is in place."

Bruce looked down.

"Oh, so you found the phone number of our regular glazier, sir."

"Promise me immediately that you won't go anywhere else, or I won't let you go home."

"And that last will be very illogical of you, master Bruce, and you are so proud of the fact that logic does not fail you under any circumstances," said Alfred, taking off his hat and going inside, "I was only gone a little more than twenty four hours, during which time even our boys could not have done anything that you and Mr. Clark could not have done."

"Your “all the more” sounds like a subtle hint."

"It's not like Mr Clark is just filling me in with complaints about children's behaviour."

Alfred got rid of his coat and scarf and went straight to the kitchen, Bruce at his heels: 

"Why didn't anyone tell me that looking after children was so difficult?"

"I left you detailed instructions on who, what, how much, and how often to feed. Everything else is not so important. After all, no one has ever died from not brushing their teeth once before going to bed or changing into clean pajamas."

"I'm a busy businessman, actually. I don't actually have time to make four breakfast options in the morning. I made them oatmeal!"

"But master Damian doesn't eat oatmeal. Under no circumstances. I've tried everything. And master Dick doesn't eat oatmeal with milk. Master Tim likes oatmeal with blueberries, and master Jason only likes bacon."

"They're all old enough to eat what they are given or cook for themselves."

Alfred shook his head reproachfully:

"Where was Mr. Clark looking?"

Bruce looked away and blushed slightly:

"Well... in general... it turned out that Clark had already fed everyone breakfast before leaving for work. Why didn't anyone bother to tell me? And why did they ask me to have lunch?"

"They are children, master Bruce. They are always hungry. I take it that nothing worse than a double breakfast has happened during the reporting period?"

"If only! Last day Dick brought a girl!"

Alfred calmly refilled the kettle with water before clarifying:

"The redhead? Or a curly blonde?"

"Dark, with bangs."

"Then it's miss Daphne, sir."

"What about them? a lot?.."

"You would know all your son's friends if you were at home more often. I hope you have shown a proper degree of cordiality and hospitality."

"I invited her into the small living room, offered her tea and cookies, and showed her the family albums."

"Master Dick will never forgive you, sir."

"Thank you, Alfred, it seems like this has already been reported. I must admit I thought Dick was dating Barbara..."

"Well, miss Barbara is too clever for that. Maybe later, when master Dick settles down."

"My son is a womanizer. How to live now?"

"Your son is a very pleasant young man, and young ladies like him. And everything happens exclusively to the mutual pleasure."

"I wish he'd thought more about how to please his own father!"

Alfred regarded Bruce thoughtfully:

"I suppose he is quite sure that you love him without any effort on his part, and that is why he is so free. I would also advise you to relax: master Damian will probably behave much worse at his age, and master Jason and master Tim will soon be interested in more than just pranks and training."

Bruce groaned inwardly and prayed aloud:

"Promise me you won't take any vacations or weekends until Damian is twenty-five."

"Oh, I'm sure you'll learn to handle your children on your own and enjoy the process much sooner, sir. I did it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ✨Happy New Year!✨  
> Remember how strong you are and how much you can do. Take care of yourself and those who are dear to you. Create, write, draw, develop and be better! Be happy and loved 🥂


	8. VIII

Bruce had always been philosophical about serious injuries, considering them an inevitable consequence of his chosen career. He was even a little secretly proud of how rarely he got them. Minor injuries - yes, regularly, but bruises and abrasions have not been included in the overall standings for a long time. Of course, Bruce could boast a decent collection of scars - a natural result of his commitment to close combat and his opponent’s passion for stabbing, cutting, spitting fire, acid and other exotic weapons, as well as their habit of using teeth, claws and spikes. But here is a significant number of firearms in his work history was not listed: first, most of his opponents believed that to shoot at Batman – it is too banal, second, he had excellent armor, and third, he is very deftly dodged. Getting another shot wound was pretty unpleasant, more emotionally than physically, but at the time of the incident, he was working as a billionaire, not Batman, so he had every right to become an innocent victim of circumstances. 

It was a little annoying to lose the opportunity to lead an active life for a few days, but it was not bad to have a little rest at home, surrounded by family and friends, especially when none of them invaded his room, protecting the peace of the victim. With a sigh of satisfaction, Bruce leaned back against the pillows and prepared to spend a few pleasant hours alone with the documents relating to the purchase of a small but promising company, when there was a knock at the door and Alfred entered the bedroom, balancing a tea tray on the tips of his left hand.

"I see you have decided not to be idle, master Bruce."

"It depends on what you call idleness, Alfred."

"You are quite right, sir. Tea?"

"Yes, thank you, tea will be most welcome," Bruce knew that Alfred was waiting for this question, and he shouldn't have disappointed him, "How are the boys?"

"Very well, sir. Master Dick, master Tim, and master Jason go over exactly where you went wrong. In the course of the discussion, they have already found a dozen possible ways to avoid the misfortune that has befallen you."

Bruce chuckled vaguely. It is better that children learn from his mistakes, if any of them existed in this situation, than from their own.

"Master Damian asked me to give you the armor. Eighteenth century, excellent work. From the personal collection of his maternal grandfather."

"But how?-"

"I wouldn't ask if I were you. But about an hour ago I noticed a couple of members of the League of assassins in the garden. Don't worry, sir, they are always very careful, they try to keep out of sight, and they never trample the flower beds."

"What about Clark?"

"Mr. Clark is very manly. In any case, the first impulse to kill you with his own hand, so that no one in this house will have to worry about you anymore, he has already successfully overcome. Now he is considering the option of obliging you to go out exclusively in the armor presented by master Damian."

Bruce snorted.

"Let me remind you, Alfred, that you're the one who's always telling me not to wear a bulletproof vest under my tuxedo."

"Let me remind you, master Bruce, that you were shot in the leg."


	9. IX

Bruce was the first to admit that social duties gave him no pleasure. But it is better to be considered a narrow-minded amateur models, prone to pawn for a tie, than to be a recluse and attract unnecessary attention to your life. However, after the appearance of children and Clark, the image concept had to be revised: step by step yesterday's playboy alcoholic in the eyes of society became a teetotaler, an exemplary spouse and an admirable father with many children. Although the process of transformation was not without failures, but after the lawyers "Wayne enterprises" sued a huge amount of tabloid, who called Damian a fiend, and personally from a journalist who wrote that in the place of Bruce Wayne, he would never have sober up, if he had such children, the general tone of publications changed to a neutral and respectful. Bruce even began receiving invitations to speak at meetings of alcoholics anonymous and charities to inspire sufferers with the story of his success in fighting the temptations of an unhealthy lifestyle. One of these invitations somehow fell into the hands of Tim, and Bruce had to give everyone a lecture about the inadmissibility of bad habits and the benefits of a well-built reputation for secret crime fighters. The children were skeptical enough about the second, at least they were even less enthusiastic about going to official events than Bruce himself, and evaded as much as they could, citing illness, patrolling, and even the need to do homework.

Bruce was standing in front of the mirror, assessing his readiness as acceptable, when Alfred came into the dressing room:

"Master Bruce, your little army – excuse me! — your children are ready."

"Results?"

"Five firecrackers, an artificial dead mouse, very naturalistic, let me say, I would rate the degree of decomposition as a week, sir, a portable source of infrasound, and" Alfred paused significantly, "master Damian has nothing."

Bruce grimaced: the story of the pack of Madagascar cockroaches Damian had released in the middle of dinner at the French Embassy had been hushed up with great difficulty.

"Maybe he's finally growing up."

"I'm glad you've managed to develop an optimistic outlook on life, sir."

"Or you didn't search him well."

"I think I'll let this insult pass, master Bruce. Again, the boys are ready to go, and everything else is in your and Mr. Clark's area of responsibility."

"And Mr. Clark?"

"Mr. Clark is fully prepared, too, sir. He asked me to tell you that attending social events as a guest, not as a reporter, is only a little more pleasant than fighting General Zod."

"Please tell Mr. Clark that he knew what he was agreeing to, Alfred," Bruce hesitated, "perhaps I should at least wear a bulletproof vest-"

"Don't set a bad example, master Bruce," Alfred's voice had a metallic notes to it, "I've just spent a lot of time and effort trying to dissuade Mr. Clark from wearing a suit that is absolutely outrageous under a white shirt."


	10. X

The mansion was definitely on fire. Not that this has happened for the first time, but it was still unpleasant. However, after assessing the absence of flames and the thickness and height of the column of smoke escaping only from the open kitchen window, Bruce corrected the initial impression.

He turned off the engine, pulled out his cell phone, squeezed the bridge of his nose with two fingers, trying to calm the rising headache, and dialed his home number.

"The Wayne Manor. What can I do for you?" Alfred's voice was imperturbable.

"Anything you want to tell me?" Bruce asked.

"No, sir," said Alfred immediately.

"Even about the conflagration that I have the displeasure of watching from the driveway?"

"Oh, that's what you mean. If I were you, I would not exaggerate so much as to call such a small fire a conflagration, master Bruce."

"If I were you, I would kindly tell me what happened."

"Master Damian and Mr. Clark were baking a cake, sir, and the process got a little out of hand."

Bruce took a deep breath, not admitting to himself that he was relieved. If someone had been hurt, Alfred would not have prevaricated. And Clark has too much experience fighting fires and rescuing people to worry about Damian and the other residents of the mansion.

"What's the damage?"

"Restoring the kitchen won't ruin you, sir."

"Really," Bruce muttered.

"Mr. Clark asked me to tell you that he's sorry. Nevertheless, he believes that the share of responsibility for what happened lies with you."

"It's like nothing else-"

"Because — I quote — this apple did not just fall from the apple tree, but did not even come off the branch."

Bruce felt a little insulted: even though he had never baked cakes before, he rated his culinary talents fairly highly. On the other hand, which parent will not be pleased to hear that the child is all in it.

"I hope you're not going to break into the house with your parent’s lecture at the ready."

"Does it make sense? I'm going to go back to Gotham and check out that candy store on main, since Damian and Clark are so hungry for sweets."

"A very sensible decision, master Bruce. I'll have a rhubarb cheesecake, please."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, ten chapters behind! Thank you for reading, I love you


	11. XI

Halloween was clearly not one of those days that a man burdened with family can spend quietly in the privacy of his office. Or caves. Or on some cozy city roof. The children were hungry for sweets and spectacles, which they informed all the adults about in advance. The attempt (rather pathetic, according to Clark, but no one asked his opinion!) to pay off sweets for just so failed miserably.

Dick made an innocent face and resorted to the killer argument that next year he will no longer be interested in having fun with stupid kids, so this is the last chance to spend Halloween with the whole family. Only a significant cough from Alfred prevented Bruce from reminding him that this "last" chance was at least the third. It was possible to continue wasting time on useless protests, but Bruce preferred to accept, especially since the aggressors made concessions, completely freeing the head of the family from participating in the preparatory stage.

For the last week before All Saint’s Day, everyone around Bruce had been acting uncharacteristically, trying to keep out of his way by whispering and chuckling in the corners. The mansion smelled of shredded pumpkins and caramel. Batman's paranoia hinted that this would not end well, but Bruce was already a little curious about what kind of trouble was waiting for him on the most "terrible" night of the year. 

True to himself to the last, Bruce showed restraint and did not even look in the direction of Alfred when he brought him a case with an evening dress. Alfred himself looked the same as always, and Bruce's fastidious gaze found no trace of costuming in the Butler:

“So I have to participate in some nonsense to please the boys, the quotation marks hung in the air, and you-“

“Playing the Butler's Ghost, sir, is more than appropriate.”

Bruce chose not to point out that this is what Alfred does every ordinary day, appearing and disappearing as if he had mastered the art of seeping through walls and disappearing into air.

"It's time, isn't it?" with a sigh of regret, Bruce postponed the draft of a very boring contract with a Southeast Asian carrier drawn up on baihua.

“Everyone else is ready.”

“Is there something I should know?”

“Such as, sir?”

“If I have a bunch of big fairies in pink waiting for me in the lobby, I can't guarantee that I won't have a heart attack.”

“Oh, the boys wouldn't repeat themselves, despite last year's spectacular success. This time you will find a rather frightening pack of bats. And it would be well for you, master Bruce, to be sincerely glad of this circumstance.”

“Why would I-“

“The boys took advantage of the only day of the year when they can dress up in your honor without arousing any suspicion. You should be flattered and moved to tears.”

“And Clark?” Bruce, who was beginning to get up and feel flattered and moved, collapsed back into his chair, struck by a sudden suspicion. “Don't tell me he stole one of the bat suits, because then-“

“Mr. Clark chose count Dracula's costume.”

Bruce let out a sigh of relief:

“Thank God! Well, who do you think I should be at this celebration of banal postmodernism and self-irony? Dracula's Fiancee?”

“Let me tell you, master Bruce, that this is an unfortunate decision. Not with your shoulders. I dared to choose a more appropriate suit for you.”

“And this?-“

“Abraham Van Helsing, sir.”

As it dawned on Bruce, a wide, happy smile spread across his face:

“Alfred, this is brilliant!”

“Thank you, sir. And I would also recommend that you show this smile of yours to Mr. Clark and rehearse with him entering the image of a vampire: sinisterness is not given to him as easily as it is to you.”


	12. XII

Bruce was the first to admit that the backyard of the mansion was a little cluttered, if the term "backyard" applied to the estate at all, but he wasn't prepared to consider it a problem, especially his own. As long as there was relative order inside the house and the cave, he could close his eyes to the rest. If they lived in an average house, they might have had trouble, but in the vast territory of Wayne manor, valuable and useful items that children brought from everywhere were usually lost in the landscape.

Bruce studied the huge, cratered rock once more. The stone still did not want to merge with the surrounding reality and its entire appearance literally screamed that it was in the wrong place. After a quick assessment of the density and volume of the rock, Bruce came to the clear conclusion that it was not the boys who were the source of it.

When he found Alfred in the dining room, Bruce pointed at the window instead of greeting him, perhaps a little too expressively, but he decided that the universal gesture “what is this asteroid doing in my yard" did not need translation.

“Welcome home, sir. If you're wondering what this asteroid is doing in your yard, I'll let you know that master Tim is taking an initial astronomy course.”

“Tim would never have had the strength and resources to get a space object. Your attempt to shield Clark is completely unimpressive.”

Alfred raised an eyebrow:

“I didn't think Mr. Clark needed my help, especially since you asked him to help master Tim with his lessons.”

“I thought it would help him write an essay in English!”

“With the native language and the expression on him his thoughts from the master Tim's all right. It is clear that Mr. Clark would not offer his son help where it is not needed.”

There was nothing to object to.

“What was he thinking about?" muttered Bruce, turning to the window and contemplating the coal-gray surface of the celestial body.

“Mr. Clark asked me to tell you not to worry: this is a very small and insignificant asteroid, and no one will notice its temporary absence.”

“What about astronomers?”

“It is unlikely that astronomers should be considered as a serious threat. As soon as the asteroid is no longer needed, Mr. Clark will immediately return it back.”

"Good, if that's the case what other surprises on the curriculum should I expect?”

“Master Damian is about to begin studying large marine mammals, and if you ask me, sir, is Mr. Clark capable of providing a child with a blue whale for a good cause-“

“I'll call Arthur and tell him that Clark is going to attack his favorite subjects. Aquaman is definitely worth considering as a serious threat.”

Alfred stared at him in silence. Bruce pointedly pulled out his phone. Alfred continued to stare at him in silence.

“Well,” Bruce has lived with Alfred for too many years not to know when to compromise, “I'll call Arthur and arrange a family visit.”

“Very well, master Bruce. I've already taken the liberty of putting your diving gear in order.”


	13. XIII

In the past few months, Bruce had begun to notice that life in the mansion, which usually ran wild and in the most unexpected places, concentrated in the small living room in the evenings and froze. On the one hand, Bruce wasn't worried, since Alfred and Clark also participated in the quiet family gatherings. On the other hand, it was still suspicious and even offensive in some places. By excluding the head of the family from their circle of interests, they could work together behind closed doors to make an atomic bomb or glue models of world war II ships. In the first case, Bruce wanted to know WHY, in the second case, Bruce wanted to know why without him.

Clarke hid his eyes and pretended not to understand the hints. There was only one way: to use the right of the owner of the house and ask Alfred, who would surely consider prevarication beneath his dignity.

“We're watching the show, master Bruce,” Alfred said calmly, not even stopping to dust the books in the library.

Bruce had heard something about TV shows, like this pastime was now popular among the broadest strata of the population. Bruce strained his memory:

" _Game of Thrones_?"

“Most of your sons are under eighteen!” Alfred looked really offended. “How could you imagine that I would allow them to see such a spectacle, sir? We're watching _The Breath of a vicious passion_.”

Bruce thought about it, and chose not to dwell on how this vicious passion combined with the fact that most of his children were not yet eighteen. Plus, in matters of morals, morals, and decency, he trusted Alfred as much as anyone. There was no point in asking if they really liked it; otherwise, they wouldn't be sitting in front of the screen all night.

“How is it?” Bruce chose the most neutral option.

“Very instructive and useful, sir. Master Damian says that he has come to understand his grandfather better.”

“Oh, really,” Bruce muttered, unable to decide whether the news pleased him or disturbed him.

“Exactly. And _the Ice Cream Trick_ from the third series, according to master Dick, is a great success with young ladies.”

“I want to know about it?”

“No, master Bruce, you don't, but nothing obscene, I assure you. Master Jason values most of the shootouts and fight scenes.”

“Is there such a thing?”

“The kidnapping of Princess Sharizad in the eightieth series was very dynamic.”

“Dynamic?” Bruce asked weakly.

“Do you remember the time when master Tim and master Jason broke the fountain in the garden? They were reproducing this process.”

“Why was Tim wearing those strange transparent ... robes?”

“It's called cosplay, master Bruce.”

Bruce realized that he would definitely need Google's help:

“What about Clark? Is he also... cosplay?”

“Mr. Clark thinks the memory loss situation, which has been repeated twice, is a bit far – fetched, but his favourite characters have just got married – for the third time -so on the whole he's happy with everything.”

Bruce hesitated, then asked the most important question:

“Can I join you?”

“Of course, sir. Only you will have to somehow make up for already released episodes. I can copy the archive to your workstation in the cave.”

“Can't you do without it?”

“Master Bruce,” Alfred shook his head and gave him a condescending look. “Even your famous detective skills won't help you figure out what's going on if you just start watching _The Breath of a vicious passion_ from episode two-seventy-four.”


	14. XIV

Business trips are a blessing for an exemplary family man. A legitimate opportunity to take a break from the happy father's share and take a breath for at least a couple of days. Sometimes, Bruce suspected that Clark was taking on investigative journalism in remote hotspots not because he was Superman, but because he honestly performed half of the duties of nurturing and containing. Unfortunately, all good things end quickly, even difficult negotiations with very stubborn Chilean businessmen in their historical homeland.

“Home, sweet home,” Bruce murmured with a sigh, carefully closing the door behind him: the longer his return went unnoticed, the better.

“I'm glad to hear it, sir. It's nice to know that in a foreign land you longed for a quiet home.”

Sometimes Bruce would have sworn that the mansion's security system, which he had installed personally, had a secret alert system built into it that worked even more effectively.

“Good evening, Alfred,” Bruce smiled the best smile of his social alter ego. “I thought I'd come back early and surprise everyone.”

“I'm sure it will be a great pleasure for Mr. Clark to meet you suddenly.”

“And for children?” Bruce winced inwardly as he heard the question in his own voice where the statement should have been.

“No doubt, master Bruce. Your sons will be beside themselves with delight.”

“Report, Alfred?”

“No accident, sir. Allow me your cloak. By the way, your other raincoat has already been put in decent shape.”

“When I left it was-“

“I promised to remain silent about this minor episode. And a few more. Mr. Clark asked me to tell you that some of the details are not worth your precious time, especially since he handled everything.”

Bruce nodded: after all, sometimes even he didn't want to know everything that was going on in his family.

“Is there anything that Mr. Clark didn't do with his usual perfection?”

“Master Damian has decided to marry, and announced it today when Mr. Clark was preparing his breakfast. I'm afraid the toaster is irretrievably lost, but I've already ordered a new one.”

Bruce, who was heading for the kitchen, almost tripped over the carpet as he spun around to face Alfred.

“What did Clark do about it?”

“Mr. Clark tried to explain to master Damian that choosing a couple is a very serious decision, and that at such a young age you can't be completely sure that you've met the one person you want to live with for the rest of your life.”

Well, Clark was in his repertoire, but Bruce doubted that Damian was as affected by it as he was.

“What about Damian?”

“Master Damian explained the concept of divorce to Mr. Clark, sir.”

Bruce tried not to grin “What about Clark?”

“Mr. Clark tried to tell master Damian that divorce is an extreme measure. Then master Damian explained to Mr. Clark that the last resort was not divorce, but strangling a bored wife with a silk cord from the canopy of the marital bed,” Alfred continued, anticipating further questions.

“Shi- Sorry, Alfred. Damian won't be going to his grandfather's house for the holidays anymore.”

“Excellent, sir. I suggest that you personally inform Mr. Ra's of this. At the same time, refresh your sabre-fighting skills.”

Bruce rubbed his forehead, feeling a familiar headache coming on.

“Don't worry about it, master Bruce. I believe in Mr. Clark's ability to neutralize the influence of master Damian's maternal relatives.”

Bruce automatically noted that Alfred had been tactfully silent about his belief in his abilities. 

“As for getting married, all boys go through this stage. At master Damian's age, I was determined to marry Marilyn Monroe.”

“What's stopping you?” Bruce asked, and immediately regretted it, feeling closer than ever to being left without dinner in his own home.

“Oh, she was always married to someone else, sir.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, kudos? Thank you~


	15. XV

This evening, the summary of the main events of the home front contained nothing that required intervention or raised concerns. None of the boys were home: Bruce mentally thanked the school's system of punishments, which included leaving the guilty after school, allowed himself to relax and ask Alfred for a cup of tea.

“Please, master Bruce. Over tea, we'll talk about boy's clothing.”

Bruce carefully replaced the cup that had been raised to his lips, “Could you discuss this with Clark?”

“Mr. Clark said fashion was more in your part. Looking at him, you can even believe it.”

Bruce sighed: Clark's complete disregard for his appearance, which he passed off as the perfect way to disguise himself, sometimes disturbed him.

“What about the boy's clothes?”

“Master Damian complains that the suit is getting too small for him.”

“Let him take one of Tim's old suits.”

Alfred raised an eyebrow, “Have you forgotten the scandal when you offered master Jason the suit that master Dick grew out of?”

“I still can't understand why my offer didn't please Dick so much.”

“Master Dick has a keen sense of ownership, sir. It reminds me of someone.”

Bruce chose to ignore the hint, “But in this case-“

“I assure you, it will be even worse with master Damian. He's always worried about being the youngest, so he has to do what his brothers have already tried.”

“None of the older ones ever threw their mattress out of the window and into the pool, along with the sheet, pillow, blanket, and themselves lying on top of it.”

“I'll tell master Damian that you appreciate his attempt to be original. But the boy will still have to order a suit.”

“We already have a whole collection of costumes. I don't always remember where someone's is, can't I pick something up and pass it off as a new one?”

“I'm afraid not, sir, you personally trained the boys to be attentive. Robin's suits still go less than jeans, t-shirts, sweatshirts, and what else is in demand among young people this season. Not to mention socks.”

“What's wrong with socks?” Bruce felt a slight twinge of curiosity.

“Nothing, sir, the socks are all right. I made a weekly delivery of large wholesale shipments.”

“Is everything going away?”

“With a whistle, if you please, sir. Socks just disappear without a trace. I don't think even your detective skills can solve this mystery.”

Bruce chuckled, “Where does the rest of the used clothes go?”

“I send them to charity organizations. Of course, only what didn't have time to rot right on the young bodies.”

“It's a pity that the Robin's costumes aren't the kind of items you can donate to the Salvation Army without raising a barrage of inappropriate questions.”

“We can just set aside another cave for storing costumes. Especially since master Dick is already insistently talking about changing the image and developing an individual style.”

Imagining a possible stylistic solution that Dick had invented, Bruce groaned inwardly. On the other hand, dumbfounding a criminal with your appearance alone is half the victory, and who said that appearance should be necessarily frightening. He himself intended to continue to adhere to the old traditions, but the comic element may also be effective. However, there was another question on the agenda now, and that was what Bruce asked:

“What is the point of storing equipment if they still refuse to finish it after each other?”

“Perhaps grandchildren will be happy to wear what children refuse.”

“Alfred.”

“Yes, master Bruce?”

“Did I hear you say the g-word?”

“As far as I know, you've never complained about your hearing.”

“Well, no g-words in this house! And none of these same ones...”

“If you are afraid that having grandchildren will age you, then you have every chance to start babysitting them at a very young age for a grandfather.”

“I said, no g-words, please!”


	16. XVI

“Master Bruce, I need to have a serious talk with you.”

With a sigh, Bruce put down the company's annual financial report, which he had been enjoying for the past half hour. In fact, he was expecting this conversation, it was the right time for it, and the right place was chosen: in the official office of the father of the family, none of the children usually looked, unlike the cave.

“Let me guess-.”

“Yes, sir, that day is coming.”

“Jason's birthday.”

“Exactly.”

“What's wrong with it?” Bruce was able to portray an extreme degree of naivety. “The surprise party is organized, as you well know. And he, too, by the way. The gifts purchased-“

“That's the question, master Bruce, about gifts.”

Alfred looked at him as if he expected Bruce to develop the subject. Bruce didn't want to develop anything at all, but who in this house cared about his wishes at all.

“You don't think he's outgrown it yet?” Bruce raised an eyebrow, hinting that he was waiting for a very specific answer.

“I'm sure of it, sir. Do you remember master Dick's last birthday?”

Bruce wish he was able to forget it. Alas, his own memory also consistently ignored his wishes.

It all started when Damian grew up enough to clearly express his surprise at the unheard-of fact that gifts for some reason are given not to him. Damian's surprise was expressed in the most accessible way – with the help of victims and destruction. Bruce, not without some prompting from Alfred, quickly realized that gifts to two sons for the birthday of only one of them were a rational way to solve the problem. More precisely, gifts to four sons for the birthday of only one of them: you can not offend the other children just because they do not destroy everything around them. On Dick's last birthday, Bruce felt that Damian was already big enough to accept the concept of a gift for someone else's birthday that didn't include a gift for him. Bruce rarely made a mistake on such a large scale and recalled the incident not without some mental confusion, but he was ready to risk again and show firmness of character. Long ago, at the beginning of his father's career, later a large child, in numerous manuals for inexperienced parents, he read that firmness of character is an indispensable tool of education, allowing you to grow up worthy members of society.

Bruce remained firmness for about five minutes. Alfred stood by and watched the process with an impassive expression.

“All right, all right. Damian will get his birthday present for Jason, but Tim-“

“Excuse me for interrupting you, sir, but you know what master Tim is the sensitive one. And it's master Jason's birthday, and master Jason appreciates family traditions and loves his brother very much, so he will show not the best features of his personality if master Tim remains without a gift. You can't say you didn't notice that master Jason is also very sensitive.”

Alfred shook his head, showing how discouraged he was that master Bruce didn't have that same sensitivity. "Master Bruce" himself was more distressed at this moment by the fact that he was too soft.

“Maybe at least Dick?” Bruce suggested hopefully, not ready to accept the fate of the father of a crowd of spoiled children who are not worthy members of society.

“Master Dick is certainly a grown-up young man, but if I may express my opinion, sir, he still values his father's attention. Mr. Clark asked me to tell you that he has already thought of something that will please master Dick to make it easier for you.”

“And for Mr. Clark, by the way, I don't have to buy a gift for the birthday of Jason?” Bruce asked grumpily, realizing that he had missed the plot in his own home.

“That's not necessary, sir. Mr. Clark thinks you're his best gift. I don't know why.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Нi!  
> The translation of this work has been completed - many thanks to the author and to you guys who read it, I really appreciate it. I will miss this job very much ~ But I am going to translate and write further, if you are interested - always welcome  
> Love you!


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